


Seed to Seed

by Nilozot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom John Winchester, Cock Cages, Consent Issues, Hunter culture, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Ritual Sex, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilozot/pseuds/Nilozot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John needs a power boost to combat an unusually powerful spirit. Turns out, there's a ritual for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seed to Seed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stefy_coool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefy_coool/gifts).



> Age warning: Sam's 12 and Dean's 16 in this fic.

Before the sun rose and Saturn dropped blow the horizon, John shook Dean awake. “Gotta do your chores, Dean. Sam's hard.”

Dean groaned himself to alertness and reached around the nude bundle pressed against him in the motel room bed. When _wasn't_ Sam hard? Sure enough, the kid was practically rutting the sheets. No self-control at that age. Truthfully Dean himself was pretty uncomfortable, as usual in the morning. But the hunter security device prevented it from getting too big, and Dean took a half a minute to do his breathing and incantation exercises to get himself in the proper frame of mind. Lo and behold, the painful pressure on his cock slowly diminished.

He poked Sam to roll over so he didn't have to get out the warm bed, and his brother complied, probably half-awake by now but too lazy to really help. Pretty soon Sam was going to have to grow up and get a cage of his own, for no matter how diligent Dean was about absorbing Sam's excess adolescent energy, every night before bed and as they woke up, there was always some loss. Sometimes Sam went off in the middle of the night, and then Dean had to spend the morning doing the whole rigamarole with incense and blessings and sterilizing the sheets, because nothing attracted malevolent spirits like a ripe young boy's nightly emissions. Then they both had to drink up a bunch a power foods to make up for losing the strength out of the family. Frankly Dean always thought that part was overkill considering how often they got erections, and the whole ritual usually made them miss a morning of school, but John insisted. Part of growing up as a hunter, not an ounce of strength could be lost.

This morning though John had caught Sam well before that point, so Dean flipped around and slid his brother's cock into his mouth. It was already salty and wet, so Dean licked that down, hoping Dad hadn't noticed that a little had gotten on the bed. His own cock was up around Sam's face and for a second Dean fantasized that the cage wasn't there, and Sam was sucking him off at the same time. Sometimes Dad let them do that, on special occasions, but mostly Dean was at an age where he had to learn to discipline himself properly, so he shoved the thought out of his mind. He'd gone three days already, enough to make it a challenge but nowhere near his personal best.

Instead Dean renewed concentration on getting Sam off quickly, suctioning his shaft with robot-like efficiency while Sam began to thrust. His cock was getting pretty big now, almost full grown while Sam himself was still amusingly pint-sized. Dan didn't mind the growth spurt; John had been training him for years to take a decent-sized cock, and truthfully he'd learned you didn't need to jam the whole thing in there to drink it all down. Just don't gag, that was the only cardinal rule.

Sam was too young to get a proper milking too, to get every drop, but Dean sank two fingers at the right spot below his balls to increase pressure there anyway. Might help a little to tide him over through the day. Sam responded by moaning into his pillow, and grabbing Dean's hair to yank him even deeper face first down to the balls. Dean _hated_ that, which the little bastard totally knew. He got his revenge by raking his teeth along the shaft, which caused Sam to give a satisfying yelp before he let go of Dean's head. Served him right for trying to be a control freak.

“Cut it out you two, and get it done,” deep voice boomed out. Oops, Dad was watching. Dean wanted to get this over with and get in the shower, so he renewed his efforts while Sam relaxed into it, giving in to the momentary pleasure. As usual Sam came suddenly, but Dean was prepared for that, and managed to swallow every bit without so much as needing to lick his lips.

He did give a perfunctory once-over lap to Sam's soft cock just to be sure all liquid had been absorbed, but once that task was over he quickly muttered the appropriate energy-transfer ward and thankful blessing and rolled over towards Dad. John was still watching the two of them from the other bed, critically with furrowed brows. Dean's cock was totally soft now, resting comfortably inside the chastity device, so he figured it was safe to ask for a little personal relief of his own now.

“Can have the key, Dad? Wanna take a shower.”

John shot him an inscrutable look. “Sorry, son, you need to stay in for the rest of the day. I'm going after that _nishi daak_ later tonight and I need infusions from both of you. No room for accidents today.”

“What! But Dad, I've got gym!” He hadn't lost in control during the day in over a year, why didn't Dad trust him now? In bed next to him, the brat actually chortled. Dean gave him a punch to the side.

“I'm sure you can figure it out, Dean.” John rummaged in a duffel bag next to his own bed and tossed a belted thing over to them. Old, silver, ornate; Dean recognized it as the training device he'd worn when he was younger. “You, too, Sam. I really need the energy tonight, guys, so no time like the present. Teach him how to pee in it without making a mess, Dean.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Sam threw off the coverlet to glare at John, and now it was Dean's turn to smirk. “Why do I have to wear one? I can make it through half a day without running to Dean for relief.”

John just leveled a black icy stare at his youngest. “Prove it, sport. You're almost thirteen, but you've been coddled by your older brother. Pretty sure Dean could take some restraint by this age, because I sure as hell didn't have time to suck him off five times a day.”

Dean knew for a fact that Dad had been wearing his own device for three weeks straight, ever since they'd celebrated dissipating that vamp roosting site. John had asked him savor it, fucking his mouth slowly while Dean had three lubed fingers up his ass to ring out as much fluid as possible. Even with all that stimulation Dad had amazing control, and edged himself up to the brink three times before noticing Dean's jaw was getting tired. When he did come such an incredible amount of essence was transferred that Dean just barely managed to get down, while John babbled uncontrolled obscenities praising Dean's skill. Then he'd pulled him up and kissed him on the forehead, just like he was a little kid again, which made Dean both flush happy for doing well and squirm with embarrassment. And afterward Dean was flying high from all that excess power coursing through him, running through the neighborhood like a dervish and feeling like he could hunt any monster alive.

This morning Dean helped Sam strap the device on while John padded off to take a shower. Sam's cock was soft and tiny now, so the thing barely seemed attached, but Sam nevertheless squirmed and whined like it was stabbing him already.

“What do I do if I get hard at school?” Sam asked. “Is it gonna hurt?”

“Of course it hurts, that's the point of it, dummy.” Dean cinched the restraining straps around his balls to a snug fit, then snapped the tiny locking mechanism shut. Now only Dad was supposed to let him out, although Dean could get it off with wire clippers in an emergency. “What do you do? The same shit you normally do. Think about something else. Think about something nasty. Repeat the _livat lux_ until your blue balls fade. You haven't been jerking off in the school bathroom behind my back, have you?”

Sam gave him that petulant look of both guilt and defiance, and Dean smacked him upside the head.

“Come on, Dean, nobody else has to wear these stupid things. How bad could it be?”

“Everybody else doesn't have to conserve their strength for a lifetime of battling all the crappy spirits of the world. Everybody else are victims and prey and food. You wanna be fodder for every passing succubus and glamour fae? Go for it. Flush all your natural power down the toilet.”

Sam sighed and looked down at himself. “Kind of don't have a choice now, do I?”

“Nope. Seriously, though, Dad's going to let you come in like ten hours, so could you stop with the whining? You've had it good up until now, cut the complaining.”

* * * * *

For some reason Dean had trouble taking his own advice that day. He was used to controlling the occasional random day boner with mental tricks, so the device chafed and kept him half hard in every class. Somehow its presence bothered him, like it was a physical reminder that Dad didn't one hundred percent trust him. But then maybe John planned it that way, because like edging, prolonged arousal could provoke more of their essence to transfer. Dad must really be fighting a big one to need to drain them so much.

Dean saw Sam once during the day, off far in the junior high wing, and Sam had studiously ignored him. Kid wasn't limping or anything so Dean assumed he was coping okay. Dean wondered what would happen if Sam really got rebellious and showed the cock cage to his friends, or worse, a teacher. Surely his book-smart brother wouldn't be that stupid. They'd probably arrest Dad for child abuse, even though it was the complete opposite. Training now could save their lives later on.

He arrived back at the motel around three-thirty, and as expected John wasn't there, but was probably off casing the _nishi_ bedding site while it shifted to ether during the day. Sam was missing too, but he often bailed on any sort of ritual prep or afternoon training whenever he thought he could get away with it. So Dean kicked his backpack to a corner and began setting up for the ceremony by himself.

Motel rooms sucked ass for this kind of thing: They were cramped on open space, carpeted, the managers frowned on newly painted occult symbols and open flames, and had walls thin enough to hear someone fucking two rooms over. Not ideal, but they needed the bed. Dean did the best he could, unbolting one of the double beds from the wall so he could encircle it with mounded salt, and used washable paint on the ceiling for the wards. He dismantled the smoke detector and set up a minimum of oil candles, just enough to get the horehound and frankincense smoke into the air. They weren't going to be paying attention to flamesign anyway.

John pulled up just as the sun sank below the roof line. Still no Sam. Dean flicked off the TV from his spot on the unaltered bed as John came in and cast an approving eye at the state of the room. But then he noticed what was missing from the ceremony.

“Where's your brother, Dean? You know it's your job to keep track of him.”

Dean felt a rush of guilt for not actively hunting down his wayward sibling, who very well might decide to blow off the whole thing just for spite. “I'm sorry, sir, he usually hangs out at the local library, they close around sev...”

To Dean's relief, Sam sauntered through the door just as Dean was about to offer to run around town looking for him. The kid looked sullen, as usual with this sort of thing, but without any smart ass comments he tossed his book bag over in the corner with Dean's and plopped down with a resigned sigh on the bed.

“Where were you, son?”

“Same place I go every afternoon, Dean knows where I am. I have homework, you know. So does Dean. Not that he's going to get it done after this.”

For a second Dean was sure Dad would blow his top for Sam's insolence, but John must have been in a hurry, because he practically shrugged at the back talk. “Just get here on time, Sam.”

“I _did_ get here on time,” Sam muttered. Nevertheless he moved to bolt the door chain and tighten the curtains around the window before turning to face the scene.

The three of them stood awkwardly before John spoke. “All right, boys, I want to be set up when Venus hits meridian, which is in 70 minutes. So all clothes off.” He tossed Dean both the tiny knobby key for the cock cages, and a small tube. Real lube, as opposed to the baby oil they normally used to lubricate the cages. John really did want Dean to get off in a hurry.

Sam raised his eyebrows at the expensive purchase. “Dad, why don't you just take us one after another, so we don't have to do _that?”_ he complained.

John spun around and grabbed Sam by the shirt. “Do you know what the _nishi_ will try to do to me tonight?”

Sam's eyes widened, and he hesitantly shook his head no.

“They use the voices of the dead to lure their victims. Your most grieved loved ones. So very likely, I'm going to have to walk in there and hear that nasty creature tempt me with your mother's voice. I need psychic reinforcement for that, Sam.” He let go, and Sam took a startled step back. “I've told you before that infusion from both sides at the same time is synergistic and strengthens the ethereal body. You worry about your end, Dean can handle his.”

Dean dropped off his clothes on the second bed and unlocked his cage, which had been on for nearly 24 hours at that point. He wasn't the slightest bit hard. Neither was Sam, although there were some welts along his shaft indicating he had fought off an erection earlier in the day. The sensitive crystal indicator inside the locking mechanism hadn't been crushed, though, so Sam hadn't picked the lock. Dean was privately proud of him for making it through the day without so much as a whimper.

They were all used to being nude around each other, but still the beginning of the ceremony was always an awkward affair. Dean often thought – and Sam said out loud – that technically they didn't really have to take off all their clothes. Technically, a quickie each into John's mouth would serve the same function with maximum efficiency and minimal embarrassing hunter magic. But John preferred the traditional ritual. Not only did it put them into the proper frame of mind, he claimed, but also differentiated it from ordinary sex. Ideally sex was a different sacred task, something to be shared with a spouse or close loved one, your chosen family instead of the one you were born with. But since marrying off fourteen-year-olds was no longer acceptable, an alternate method of conserving all that excess boy energy needed to be used.

At least that's how Dean understood the problem.

John bade them inside the salt circle to kneel on the bed, holding hands to form a small triangle. John's cock was already half-hard and straining against the metal bands of the cage, and Dean's heart sank. With what he was required to do next, it would be tough to prevent Dad from getting more aroused and possibly losing some without orgasm, which would negate the whole point of the ritual.

John must have been reading Dean's mind, for after they intoned the rapid-fire incantation, he motioned to the lube and said, “I'll be on my back this time, kiddo, so you don't accidentally milk me. Just go in shallow, okay?”

Dean nodded, but privately he again had a lump in his stomach. They were going to be face to face, with all the lights on? It was too weird and intimate, too close to the making out he saw all over school. And again John must have sensed his anxiety, for he reached over and began to stroke Dean's cock, slowly to ease him into it, touching no other body part. Dean's eyelids drifted down as he tried to relax. He didn't try to picture anything in particular – mental porn just seemed wrong, somehow – but the self-imposed darkness combined with days of frustration all worked their magic, and his cock obediently began to respond.

John worked him up quickly and let go after only about a minute. Dean knew he was studying his face, making sure he wouldn't go off unexpectedly outside of Dad. Still a problem with Sam, but Dean knew better now, knew how when to hold back and when to let go, and when to signal to Dad that his limit had been reached. It hadn't, not by a longshot.

“Good,” he heard John murmur, “On top of me now, Dean. You can prop yourself up if you want to.”

Dean forced himself to open his eyes. Sam was still off to one side, slowly stroking himself to half-hardness. John lay back next to Sam with his head near the edge of the bed, then pitched his knees and opened them wide.

“Should use my fingers or…?”

“No. I don't need to be comfortable. It's...counterproductive. Just use enough lube so that you feel okay.”

Dean squirted a little liquid into his hand. It was viscous and cold, the opposite of sexy. Nevertheless he smeared it on and positioned himself between John's legs. John's body was warm, though, hot and hairy moving from John's breathing, and suddenly Dean found himself overwhelmed by a visceral revulsion and panic.

“Dad, I don't think … I can't...”

John awkwardly sat up and stroked Dean's face for an instant, before moving to rub the back of his neck. The rare comforting touch soothed Dean's agitation but it didn't make the aversion to the ritual go away. “Shh, yes you can. I really need you to do this for me, son. Are you worried about hurting me or something?”

Dean didn't think that was the problem so much. He knew Dad could handle it, he could handle anything. But he nodded yes anyway, because he couldn't find the words to express this inexplicable dereliction of duty.

“You've got to try. Close your eyes, I'll guide you in. I think you'll be fine once we get going. 'Kay?” He grasped Dean's half-mast cock and pumped it up for a few strokes, his hand easily sliding now with the lube. Dean closed his eyes again, putting all his attention towards that one place. Dad made it feel so good, he wished that the ritual was only this, relaxing and coming into his hand. But John stopped when he was hard again, and lined him up with the tip against his hole. Dean's cock twitched when he felt it even warmer than the rest of him.

“Push, Dean. Hard if you have to.”

Dean did his best to comply. Without opening his eyes he ground against John's opening, while John continued to hold his cock and guide him with one hand. John was still partially sitting up with most of his weight on his other arm, and Dean could feel his erratic breathing only inches from his own face. He pushed. The lube did make the job easier but it was still like trying to fit into an impossible space, one where the tip of his cock was squeezed into a vice. This wasn't going to work with the slow and incremental, he realized. So he shoved harder, with more force than he thought wise, and with hardly more than a grunt the muscle suddenly gave way and let him in.

John jerked back like he'd been slugged at the breach. _“Fuck_ , Dean. I know I said hard, but...”

“Sorry! Sorry.” He risked a glimpse down at John's caged cock between them to make sure nothing had escaped, and it bulged with a garish purple color through the metal latticework. Not good.

John grunted and lay back flat on the bed, obviously struggling for control. “Just go slow for a minute, okay? Shallow. I got to breathe.” He glanced up at Sam, silently watching the proceedings to the side of John's head. “You about ready, Sam? Almost time to recite _cabalat crux_ _,_ boys.”

Sam's face always looked blank during the proceedings as he languidly stroked himself to stay hard, and Dean sometimes wondered what he thought about. Some girl he had a crush on? Or maybe this was hot for Sam? He doubted it; Sam never expressed the slightest interest giving Dad any of his essence, especially down on Dean's ass-fucking end. Likewise Dad seemed reluctant to transfer anything back to Sam, even though the kid could suck like a pro now when he put some effort into it, despite his young age. One on one, whether giving or receiving, they both preferred Dean, as if repelled from each other by some agitating anti-magnetic force.

“Can I stand on the floor?” Sam asked softly, his voice as empty as his face. “I'll stay inside the circle.”

John waved him an impatient assent and shifted over slightly so his head was on the very edge of the bed. Both his hands migrated down to grasp Dean's thin hips between his legs. The strong grip calmed Dean even more than the neck rub a few moments earlier. Dad knew what to do, knew how to keep control. He wasn't going to leave Dean to figure everything out by himself.

John wriggled into his final position, and then prodded Dean to move. Shallow slow thrusts, just like he asked. He began the _cabalat_ chant in the hunters' Latin/Hebrew magical pidgin, and both Sam and Dean joined in, the melodic repetitive phrases rolling out subconsciously from extensive use. The chant was part protective ward from all the evil spirits that would do them wrong, part meditation to mesh together and strengthen the etheric, astral and mental dimensions of the soul. Since most spirits and monsters existed in the etheric or astral realms, this would help John become immune to attack.

At the second repetition, John dropped out. Even without looking, Dean knew he had taken Sam into his mouth. Since Sam was standing next to the bed instead of kneeling over John's face, John had his head tipped over the edge so Sam could face-fuck him upside-down. Sam's voice tenor cracked as he continued the incantation, but soon he got into a breathless rhythm, shoving into John's throat in time with the droning words.

At the same time, John's huge hands urged Dean to move.

He tried to move shallowly as Dad requested, and indeed John shoved back on his hips enough to prevent him from banging anywhere near the swollen prostate. It was too slow at first for Dean to do anything but let himself be guided along. Soon enough, though, the slick tightness and Dad's palms touching him and even the drumming words flowing out of him and his brother all conspired to build up Dean's arousal to a fever pitch. He wanted to move faster and harder, fuck like Sam was doing not three feet in front of him, but John held him in control. Sam was choking on each word but he didn't miss a beat; the kid wouldn't last long at that pace, but based on the force with which he was shaking the bed, John would probably be grateful.

Like a spark rapidly inflating into a raging fire, the power flared up and poured into John from Dean and Sam. Dean didn't feel drained by the transfer but energized, as if he were a conduit for some fantastic force far beyond the natural and ordinary. When Sam came the energy flowed over like a buzzing wave, and then Dean sensed the residual licks of his power snuffing out as Sam retreated from the protective circle the instant his role was done. Dean's voice was the only one left still singing, but he still wasn't ready to come.

John had choked down Sam's essence, but now that he had his mouth back began to moan and swallow great gulps of air and pulled back with each of Dean's thrusts. For the first time, Dean was afraid John wouldn't be able to make it. He needed to speed up to finish, but Dad was so close to the edge he might lose it just from a subtle change in position. John's gasping increased, and he released one hand from Dean's hip and ripped the apparently unlocked cage off his purplish cock.

Dean stopped chanting and moving, not knowing what to do. In the background he could hear the drizzling white noise from Sam's shower. The two of them were alone.

They rested in silence for a minute while John caught his breath. He'd put his hand back on Dean's hip, gently holding him in place even though Dean wasn't going anywhere.

After John seemed to get himself under control, Dean asked in a quiet voice, “Stop, Dad? I can wash up real quick and you can...”

John glanced at the clock next to them, then pushed himself up with a wince so they were inches from each other's faces. Dean was still embedded in him, afraid if he pulled out he'd never get in again. John cupped Dean's chin with one of his huge paws to tip his son's face up to look him in the eye, and ran a thumb over his lips.

“You're a great kid, Dean. I don't tell you that often enough.”

Dean's gaze dropped off to the side. Why did Dad always pick the strangest times for the embarrassing stuff? At least Sam wasn't there to glower over the unfair treatment. John must have picked up on the reaction, because he laughed softly and let go of his head.

“You're already here, may as well finish what we started. If I let you go at your own pace, think you can come quickly?” Dean nodded yes, and John curled back down to stare at the ceiling. “Then do it. I'll try to get this spirit dispatched quickly and then I can give it back to you later tonight. Sound like a plan?”

“Maybe I can go with you, help with the spirit dissolution?” Dean asked. Normally he wasn't so forward, but despite all the tension and time crunch, Dad seemed to be in a good mood. Sam's energy must have helped already.

“You're not ready for a nishi, son. Next time, with a simpler ghost, I promise. Now finish up. Venus is ascending, I need to leave in a few minutes.”

Dean didn't protest further. He leaned forward, arms anchored on the bed on either side of John's waist, and began to move. This time John was the one singing the _cabalat crux,_ humming out a fast rhythm in his deep voice but still soft and intimate in tone. Instead of holding Dean's hips, he reached up, placing one hand on Dean's back and curling the other in his short hair to pull him down so they were laying chest to chest. The simple touch caused a rush of pleasure and raw spiritual power, and Dean began to fuck in earnest. John's voice and breath in his ear was meditative, the familiar words looping over and over. The incantation was meant for any lingering mystical spirits or larvae, but this way it felt like Dad was singing for him alone, urging him on, coaxing essence out of every cell in his body. _Come, come, come in me, just for me,_ the words seemed to say.

His body finally complied.

Gasping for breath in the aftermath, curled up in John's arms, Dean didn't understand how it was humanly possible for Dad to have held back. But his cock was still hot and hard between them, so he had somehow. Dean had a lot more training to do before he could begin to think about that level of control.

“Okay there, sport?”

“Mm-hmm.” Dean glanced up at John's face to see his eyes were shining and he was almost smiling. A lot of positive energy had been transferred. Dean himself melted into John's chest in exhaustion, which was a good sign. Sometimes he felt so close to dad afterward, it seemed like maybe their etheric bodies accidentally got mingled somehow. Which wasn't supposed to be possible; this was an energy transfer, not making love like spouses. But he wondered.

John only let him lie there for a short few seconds before he began to wriggle uncomfortably from Dean's weight. “I've really got to go, Dean. But this shouldn't take long if everything goes according to plan. Be back in a couple of hours. Why don't you stay here in bed and get some rest?”

Dean knew John would be gone a lot longer than two hours. He knew that he wouldn't sleep, that he'd be the one who put the furniture back and scrubbed the ceiling and vacuumed up the salt, and that Sam would come out after Dad left and be hungry, so Dean would have to rustle up some kind of food for them. But long into the night, when Venus dropped below the horizon and the nishi job was done and Sam was (hopefully) asleep on the other side of the room, Dean would be waiting right here, right here in this bed. Maybe he'd have the cock cage on, maybe not. Dad definitely wouldn't. Dean knew he'd take all that energy back and more, in slow sensuous increments. He'd grow up strong, like hunters should.

 


End file.
